Tim's Point of View
by thewizardanthedragon
Summary: Tim's Point of View of the evening he and Abby argued over Lucas - Probably will only make sense if you read the story "Fight" first AU-Lucas and Sam are the fictious children of McGee and Abby - WARNING - CP of minor by parent DON'T LIKE DON'T REA
1. Chapter 1

I rarely got the chance to come home early. If there wasn't an active case then there was paperwork, court preparation or some cold case that needed attention. So that day having snuck away by 1600 I was looking forward to having supper with Abby and the boys and sitting in front of the tv with Lucas playing PS3 games. I am not sure if it was the dashed expectations that enhanced my frustration or the look on Luc's face when he explained that he looked good compared to 'the other guy' or a combination of both but I went from 'happy to be home' to 'livid' in a matter of a nanosecond.

I will also allow for the fact that my part of my anger stemmed from the fact that Abby hadn't told me about Lucas at all; no email, no phone call, nothing. It was an ongoing internal battle of work versus home. Cases versus the boys. And when something as significant as my son's first fist fight happened I did feel that I should have at least been notified if not consulted as to what should be done to make sure that Lucas learned the right lesson.

It's not that I had ever disagreed with how Abby had ever dealt with the boys in the past. It wasn't that I felt I was better equipped to handle the situation. It was just that in this particular case, in this particular circumstance I felt like Abby had been fleeced. Her motherly instinct to protect blinded her to what was actually going on. Again I don't blame her, I can only imagine what it would have been like to arrive at the school to find Lucas bruised and torn; it was shock seeing it when I walked through the door myself.

Abby and I have had our differences in the past. We've had our standoffs, at work and at home. But that night was the one and only time I can say that I yelled, screamed even wouldn't be too harsh a term for the decibel level at which I spoke to my loving wife. It stemmed I think from a deep seated fear for my child. I'm not just saying that. I really do think that looking at Lucas' face, hearing the pride in his voice and seeing the strut in his step I realized that if we didn't nip this in the bud so to speak that he would have learned that violence is the solution to your problems.

He was 6 years old and had literally attacked a schoolmate. Yes, I know the kid deserved it… I understand that point as well. I get that standing up to a bully and protecting a friend is very commendable. I also understand the bravery and loyalty my son showed that afternoon, although those wonderful traits need to be tempered with reason and self control.

Since the boys were born there was always a part of me that worried that my job and that of many of our family would skew the beliefs and interpretations of the world for my children. We all carry a gun, often come home looking 'beat up' and talk about the difficulty of this or that arrest. Glorifying violence is not what I want to do. I want my sons to understand that I fight only as a last resort, that words can be just as powerful as a punch.

And so there I was standing in the home office trying ineffectively to make Abby understand what Lucas was really feeling. Trying to get her to see what was actually going on his little head. What Abby didn't know until later that evening was that when I was just a little older than Lucas, I too was in a low down brawl with the school yard bully. I remember the overwhelming rush of adrenalin and testosterone that pumped through my veins as I was dragged off Michael Horowitz by Mr. Parker. I too spent the day crying or at least on the verge of tears. And those uncontrolled emotions were not poured out due to my need for contrition and absolution. Indeed I was extremely proud of my accomplishment. I had not run from 'danger' I had stood up to Michael and I'd 'shown' him. I had become revered by a much larger group of children as they too had been tormented and enjoyed seeing him get his 'come uppance'. Having hero status does a lot to reinforce the wrong message about solving your problems with your hands instead of your head. This was the message I didn't want Lucas to walk away with.

So it was mixture of my own experience as well as the tone in which Luc said "I got in a fight with Liam because he was bullying Sean. I got him good Dad, he looks way worse than I do!" that had my blood boiling. Now yelling never works, you can't be as articulate when your voice is at such a pitch. I know that but at times of turmoil you sometimes forget such thing. I stayed in the office only long enough to get the nod from Abby that she understood I needed to this 'my way'. It took a lot of talking later that night to get things right between us again. In the end she saw my point and even though she wasn't perfectly in agreement with everything Abby knew I respected her and supported her in her decisions about raising the boys. And in turn she knew that my actions and words came from a place of love and wanting only the best for our children.


	2. Chapter 2

You could describe how I left the office as 'storming' down the hallway. That was until I felt it; eyes staring at me. Taking a deep breath as I turned slowly to find Lucas standing plastered against the wall just outside the office. I used every fiber of control I had left to calmly say "Lucas James Garret McGee get to your room now". His wide eyes and slight hesitation in moving were enough for me to appreciate that he was feeling guilty, about what we still had to discern.

I knew that he would make a beeline for his closet and that I had a few minutes to collect my thoughts and make a few decisions of my own. I climbed the stairs and walked passed Sam's room. I wasn't in the right state of mind to greet my youngest; instead I headed to my own room at the very end of the hall. I sat down on the bench at the end of the bed my elbows resting on my knees has a scrubbed my face with the palms of my hands.

I looked repeatedly to the closet. Finally I stood slowly, walked with heavy feet to the door and little by little pulled it open. Again I hesitated, standing looking up on the top shelf, deciding. I reached for it retracting my hand twice before finally grasping the small handle. Holding it in my left hand I returned to the bench. I don't know how long I sat there turning it over and over again in my hand. It was probably a lot longer than I had planned but I needed to formulate a strategy.

I heard Abby get Sam out of his crib and head back down to the main floor. I listened to their everyday activities as the memory of how I came to have in my possession that which I held in my hand.

_Flashback_

_Gibbs had crafted a beautiful wooden cradle for the baby and given it to us a couple of weeks before Lucas arrived. It was just magnificent. This was not to be the only 'gift' Gibbs had made. The night Lucas was born and the 'family' all came to 'oooh and ahh' Gibbs stood on the perimeter watching like a lordly lion surveying his pride. He had of course taken his turn to cuddle the little bundle and gush with his own joy at the arrival of the new baby. _

_After Tony left and Ziva was having a 'girls' conversation with Abby, Gibbs beckoned me with his crooked finger into the hallway. I was slightly confused as we sat on the vinyl hospital chairs in the waiting room and he handed me something wrapped in a piece of cloth and tied with a bit of string. I guess without doing it on purpose I had nonverbally asked "what's this?" "Just open it McGee" he instructed. "I should probably wait until I'm with Abby" I said more out of feeling uncomfortable accepting this from him then really feeling that Abby needed to be present. "It's not for Abby. It's for you." He said ending my attempt to get out of the situation. _

_I untied the string and gently uncovered what lay inside. My confusion heightened rather than subsided. My expression as well as my words said "What's this?" It wasn't actually that I didn't know what it was. It was more "Why are you giving me this?" but in a more polite manner._

"_You really don't know what it is?" he asked eyebrows raised and a smirk playing at the corners of his lips._

"_I guess… I … well… " he always did have a way of making me fall all over my own words. Strange as I was the writer, the wordsmith as it were, within the family. Yet I was also the one most likely to end up tongue tied in a conversation with him. _

"_I know what it is… I just guess I don't think I will need it…." I stammered out. Laughing internally as his 'gift' lovingly showed his traditional values and mindset, even his tendency to male chauvinism that occasionally broke through the surface of his attempts at equality. I almost asked him if he would have given me the same thing had I had a daughter._

"_You'll get there one day, McGee" Gibbs said in the most knowing fatherly manner._

"_I'm not sure I will" I remember saying. He clapped me on the back, stood up and walked purposefully to the elevator and left. _

_End Flashback_

Had I gotten there; to the point I thought this was the right answer? As laid it across my lap and ran my hand the length of the lacquered surface what I was going to do became clear. With an approach in mind I stood and walk more confidently back down the hall and entered Luc's room.


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't even attempt to pry him out of the closet. Instead I sat on the bed, looking at my hands and what I held in it, quickly laying it behind me so that Luc would look at me throughout our conversation.

"Lucas?... Lucas?" I asked quietly making sure that my tone had no hint of anger or frustration. The rustling of closet debris told me he was moving. Maybe not at top speed but he was at least making an effort. I saw little fingers curl around the edge of the door before I saw the fringe of hair and then the inquiring eyes. If I hadn't been there on a very specific mission I would have thought him more than just a little cute. I lifted my left arm off my leg and motioned him with my hand for him to come out.

Maybe it was genetics, or maybe it was being raised for the past 6 years in a household that does a lot of its talking with their eyes but without words he asked "Are ya gonna yell?"

As more of his face and body was visible from around the corner of the closet door I motioned once again for him to come over, only this time a little more vigorously. Sitting on the edge of the bed I was still much taller than he was so to make sure that we were face to face I had to maintain my leaning posture with my arms resting on my legs. I held his hands in my own and squeezed them gently to get him to look up at me and not at his feet that he was staring at.

"Lucas…" and before I could continue tears silently slid down his face. Geez… I thought ... it would be nice if this job was a little easier. "C'mon Bear, put those tears away" I used my thumb to wipe away the few tears still lingering on his cheek. "I" I started before I took another deep breath "Luc…why don't you tell me what happened at school today?" I needed to … no wanted to… ascertain his interpretation of the events and figure out exactly how he was feeling about the outcome. I didn't think I was wrong but there is always the possibility.

He began his description slowly and methodically but by the time he got to the part of the story that was the actual fight and the teachers' reactions he was in full "Abby babbling" mode. I don't think he took a breath for several minutes as he rattled on. When he finally came to the end of his explanation he had to take several breaths to catch up for those he'd missed. As his shoulders heaved as though he'd run a marathon I simply sat silently waiting for him to be wholly present and in the moment.

"Lucas… I understand that what Liam did was wrong… but I want you to know that by fighting you put yourself in the same category… solving your problems with your fists doesn't work… "I started only to be interrupted by his quiet little voice.

"You fight… Uncle Tony fights… Auntie Ziva fights… you…" before he could get any further I gently placed my index finger over his lips.

"Listen Luc…Are you listening?" I asked as he nodded I removed my finger. "I need you to listen very very carefully ok?" again he nodded.

"We fight when we have to…. and ONLY when we have to… we always try to use words… ALWAYS… fighting is always a last resort … and when we have to fight…. We don't think we've won… we aren't happy or proud that we got to that point…. We feel disappointed in ourselves and the situation… we think 'how could we have done that better?' "I explained as Luc's eyes grew wider and wider as I said each phrase.

I answered his unvoiced question of "Really?" with a nod of my own head. We stood there looking at each other for several more moments and then Luc opened his mouth to say something on a few occasions but then stopped. I waited to see if he would continue but in the end he dropped his head and shoulders and took great interest in the carpet.

Again I gently shook his hands that I had once more grasped in my own. He only looked at me through the tops of his eyes. I didn't force a more direct gaze as I all too well understood how he felt. I too had been the little boy standing in front of his father coming to the conclusion that even though he may have fought or killed he wasn't proud of it and I shouldn't be either. It isn't an easy realization to swallow.

"Luc… what can you do next time?" I asked leaning forward even more so that he could see my eyes.

Shaking his head "There isn't going to be a next time!" his words falling out so quickly I only understood them from years of experience with Abby. "That's good to hear" I said suppressing a chuckle that tried to bubble out. "But what I meant was the next time a bully bothers you or a friend" I clarified.

"Oh" he exclaimed finally understanding what I'd initially meant. "Go to a teacher?" he asked not sure of the 'right' answer. "That would be a good choice" I replied. We spoke for a few minutes about alternatives to physical altercations. When again silence settled between us I waited. Concluding that Luc had nothing else to add I decided now was the time to actually put into action the plan I'd arrived with.

"Lucas… do you realize that Ms. Carmichael was actually supposed to send you to the principal's office for fighting?" asking him more to get him into the conversation as I was well aware he knew the answer. He nodded in the affirmative and so I continued "do you know what would have happened to you if you'd been sent to the office?" I asked shaking his hands again as his head dropped and his shoulders sagged. I waited before asking again "Do you?"

His little face lifted ever so slowly to look me in the eye and then he turned his head slightly so that he was really looking at me through the side of his eyes. Twisting his lips side to side he started to talk and then went silent. His whole body moved with nervous energy as he tried to speak again. I was pretty sure that what I was about to say was already known by my son but I said it anyway. "If you'd been sent to the principal's office you would have been paddled and then sent home for at least the rest of the day if not suspended for longer." I'd let my voice take on a tenor of firmness and seriousness.

His gulping swallow and quick intake of air was expected. I sat for another few seconds so that my words had time to sink in. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" I asked needing some sort of recognition that he was processing the words I was saying. When he finally nodded I continued "and I am going to let you know right now… that if your mother or I EVER get that phone call… EVER… I'll paddle you myself when I get home" and as I spoke I placed the small paddle I'd received almost 7 years ago on my lap.

Luc's eyes bulged out of their sockets as he gasped again. My first gut feeling when I saw him stare at the small rectangle of wood with a handle was "Thank God he's scared… it probably means I will never have to actually use it…" Then I too took a deep breath. Neither of us spoke for some time. I didn't want to interrupt his processing of my words and actions. Finally an unnaturally squeaky voice tried to say something and the little boy deep inside of me knew what he was trying to ask but couldn't find the courage to do so.

"No … no little bear… not tonight" I said setting the paddle on the quilt and reaching out to take my son into my arms to hold, carefully, so that I didn't touch his bruised face. Luc immediately broke down into heart wrenching sobs; I just sat there cuddling him close to my chest rocking him to and fro until he had finally gotten control of himself.

Then with a feigned seriousness I pulled him away from my lap and held him under his arms. With my eyebrows raised I declared "We have something else to discuss about your behavior… don't we?"

His confused look quickly melted away when I tilted my head towards the hallway and looked towards the stairs. "Oh… that" he said realizing I meant his little spy expedition a guilty smile creeping onto his face. "Eavesdropping is rude and I won't stand for it …" my tone firm but still gently loving. "Your mother and I need to be able to have private conversations … do you understand?"

"Daddy… it wasn't really private … you were yelling very loud… everyone could have heard you" he said with a cheeky grin and it was my turn to blush guiltily. I turned him sideways with my right hand firmly on his arm and landed two solid swats to his now available backside. They were actually hard enough to produce a decent sting. His free hand quickly flew back to protect his bottom as he turned with an angry glare and said "What was that for?" sounding so much like Tony I laughed before I could answer. His expression changing to insulted before I got control of myself. "For eavesdropping and being saucy about it!"I declared as I scooped him up and threw him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Together we descended the stairs and joined the rest of the family in the living room.


	4. Chapter 4

Now you may ask what had me remember this particular memory almost a decade later. It was an interesting little conversation I had this evening with my eldest child.

I was sitting on the couch leaning back against the cushions game controller in my hands. Sam was sitting on the floor his back against my legs his own controller grasped tightly as he tried for the seventeenth time that night to beat me at the game playing across the TV screen. I had sensed Luc hovering at the edge of the room for some time. I knew my son well enough that he needed to ask as question and was just finding the right moment.

As my game character snuck in for an attack on my 10 year old's avatar Luc blurted out quickly and jumbled together "Hey Dad can I have the paddle that GG made?"

Having to discern exactly what he'd said and being somewhat surprised by what I'd heard I lost complete concentration on the game. When Luc had began speaking I looked over my shoulder lowering my attentiveness on my animated attack. Sam cheered as he was finally able to overtake my onscreen persona. My youngest jumping up and down, waving his controller in his hand as he gloated "I win, I win, I win".

Both Luc and I chuckled at young Sam's reaction. "Way to go Monkeyshine" I laughed before turning so that my arm hung over the back of the sofa and I could more clearly see Luc. He was standing in the doorway, back against the door frame, looking at his feet his hands tucked behind his back. I tried to interpret his expression and body language, embarrassed or guilty?

"You feeling guilty about something son? You and I need to go to your room for a private conversation?" I asked only half joking.

It took him a few seconds to process what I'd said before he vehemently answered "NO…. Daaaaaadddd" his hands raised in front of him waving no. "I mean can I borrow it" he reiterated. I guess I looked confused, which would have been accurate because I was. "Why exactly would you like to borrow it?" I asked.

"'Cause we're doin' this comedic skit at school… and we kind of need one… long story Dad… just can I borrow it?" Luc's discomfort was more than just a little evident in both his words and stance. I wasn't trying to make him feel any more uneasy when I asked the next question but his rosy complexion suggested that he was feeling less than relaxed. "Doesn't the school have one in the principal's office?"

"Ya" his sarcastic response his way of coping. "So why borrow my paddle? If it's a school 'project'?" I asked but didn't really expect an answer. "'Cause it's easier to ask you to borrow it then Mr. Littleton" his words were dripping with sarcasm. His hands were hidden behind him again as he pushed himself slightly off the wall and then allowed himself to fall back again. Luc may be 6 feet tall now but in those few seconds he looked so much the tiny 6 year old he was when he first discovered its existence.

"Sure you can borrow it… as long as I get it back" I smirked. Luc smiled back and I went to stand up. Noticing for the first time Sam's reaction to the whole conversation; shocked. It may have been his younger age or his more frequent acquaintance with it that had him staring between myself and his older brother during the discussion. As Luc and I headed towards my room to get the paddle out of my closet Sam watched intently but I heard the video game resume before we hit the bottom of the stairs.

I thought nothing more of the conversation until I happened to overhear the two boys in Luc's room when I came up to tuck Sam into bed.

"Luc please… you can just say it got taken… or that it fell out of your bag… or…" Sam's voice was pleading.

"Look Sam, I am NOT going to lose it, misplace it or have anything untoward happen to it…. Got it?" Luc answered annoyed. His tone dismissive enough that I figured this little chat had been going on for some time.

"Lucas… you aren't being fair" Sam's voice rose with a high pitched whine.

"Fair… this has nothing to do with fair Sam… I asked to borrow it for a school project… and not as you seem to think as a way to have it disappear and I'm not going to do to anything to betray Dad's trust in lending it to me…so really you're not being fair asking me" Luc's tone much more like that of a father than older brother. I smiled at Luc's reaction and then put on an overly stern appearance even crossing my arms over my chest and then stepped through the door.

Sam's back was to me but from his instant change in posture I knew he realized I was there and had heard everything; gaining his insight from the look on his sibling's face. With a flourish he turned to face me a large charismatic grin on his face showing his dimples to full effect. "Hi Dad… I'm ready for bed now."

I didn't bother saying anything as I knew both boys were more than aware of what I was thinking and would do should either of them 'accidentally' lose the 'package' Gibbs had handed me so many years ago.

After tucking in Sam and then going back to Luc's room to say goodnight. I returned to my office to work. I got nothing accomplished as instead I ran through the past, realizing just how much my children have grown.


End file.
